


Red Door

by midnightflame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Foreplay, Hair-pulling, Keith loves them both, Kissing, Kuro is Shiro, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Rough Sex, Shiro is Kuro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/pseuds/midnightflame
Summary: “Shiro. . .”A smile greets him, just as cutting and sweet as the laughter before it. At the very core of him, he can feel his guts wrapping around a hard ache in response.“You know that’s not my name.”Keith swallows and feels the strain of it on his throat. “Kuro. . .”





	Red Door

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a small break from writing out some other things, and I kinda really love Ciara's version of Paint It Black, which is how I ended up with this piece. Hope you enjoy this shameless fun!

“Do you miss him?”

A breath hitches in his throat. Keith tips his head back, a defiant flash in his eyes as his gaze is set and leveled. 

“Want me to help you remember him?” 

His lips part as the air held finally expels itself in one heated rush. The corner of his mouth curves, a smirk staging a protest. “I have him right here.” 

Laughter spills out at that. It’s low and warm, carrying that black edge of _ominous_ to it. Keith still thinks there’s something beautiful about it though, in the same way mist curling around trees and growing thick enough to drown visibility can be. Everything tells you not to tread through into such a forest, not until the world has cleared and that slight chill has left the air, but like all things tugging on a soul, some things are simply undeniable. 

Keith takes a step forward, placing his foot right in between Shiro’s legs, and leans his chest forward. His shoulders complain at the sudden stretch, but it’s dutifully ignored for like all good pain, it has a pleasant ache coiling in his stomach. The grip curled over his wrists tightens in response.

“So, how did he do it?” 

There’s a probing curiosity in Shiro’s words, quiet and contained. As their eyes meet, Keith can see the answers swimming there. He’s had them, always has, but it never stops him from asking, from trying to dig a little deeper into the core of what they are. 

“Do what?” Keith tosses out there, like a bone to be fought over for what pickings on it remained.

A smile curves Shiro’s lips then, slick as a kopis aimed for the sacrifice. “How did he fuck you. . .what else?”

“You should know that.”

Shiro’s gaze drops to Keith’s mouth as he speaks, and when it does, Keith jerks against the hands holding his limbs hostage above him. He tries to turn his wrist only to find fingers digging into his flesh. A flash of pain radiates out from beneath each fingertip, causing his lips to part with a sudden gasp. 

The fire churns in his groin, flame spilling endlessly over itself, an ever-renewing fountain of want. He almost hates that he does - want that is. But since his return, Shiro has been like a man reforged, and what had once been a pristine alabaster personality, reputation glinting like newly minted gold, is now like marble streaked with black lightning. 

He’s exquisite if you ask Keith. All sides of him.

Shiro leans in, smiling still, and murmurs against his still parted lips. “I still want an answer. So tell me, how did he fuck you?”

A hand slips from over his wrists, though one hand alone has always been more than enough to trap both his wrists completely, and slips up the back of his neck. Fingers splay out wide across his scalp. Keith snaps at the lips still drifting across his and tastes blood sparking over his tongue.

Shiro’s fingers close in around his hair, swift and remorseless, like a coil spring trap triggered by an unfortunate step.

“Slow. . .and easy. . .” Keith hisses after a moment. The grip on his hair tightens, pain prickling across his scalp in its wake. “Harder, sometimes. . .but he never. . .”

“. . .never lost control. You felt it though, didn’t you?” Shiro says quietly. He licks at the corner of his mouth a moment later, where Keith sees red bloom and die in a single breath. “When he was on that edge. . .you wanted to ask for it. You wanted to push him over. But you were afraid.”

“I wasn’t afraid,” Keith growls.

“Afraid of losing him.”

That puts a small stutter into his heart’s steps. His breath stifles itself over his tongue as Shiro begins to tip his head back, slowly exposing the line of his throat.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. Go ahead, Keith. . .ask me.”

“Fuck you.”

He starts laughing then, the sound sweet as only the Devil’s can be when he’s offering you paradise while sinking his claws right into your soul. Keith feels it like the edge of a too-sharp blade slicing his nerves thin as pufferfish flesh, with the same thrill of courting an early death. 

The same promise of toxicity.

Already the breath is stilling in his lungs, his heart running erratic in his chest. The fingers in his hair tighten, forcing his head back further, and when their gazes meet, Keith can still see the firefly glow of quintessence flickering in the smoke and grey of the eyes that meet his.

“Shiro. . .”

A smile greets him, just as cutting and sweet as the laughter before it. At the very core of him, he can feel his guts wrapping around a hard ache in response. 

“You know that’s not my name.”

Keith swallows and feels the strain of it on his throat. “Kuro. . .”

Lips find the curve of his jaw. “There you go. . .”

Shutting his eyes, Keith lets the sensation wash over him. Kuro’s mouth is hot against his skin, warmer still where his tongue flicks out and runs a line down to his jugular. Pain continues to needle at his scalp, though it lessens in pulses as Kuro eases off then wires dark hair around his fingers once again. Another hiss shoots off his tongue as teeth sink into his skin. Seconds later, Kuro is chuckling against his neck, sucking at the mark Keith can already envision staining his pulse-point black. 

Kuro’s mouth moves lower. Keith feels his cock respond, a sharp twitch as the blood starts rushing through his veins. 

His wrists are finally released as Kuro drops his hand to Keith’s stomach and shoves it beneath his shirt. Fingers take to ravaging skin, sliding up along the length of his torso only to rake down in haphazard lines. Every muscle tightens beneath that touch, earning him another soft spill of laughter. 

“Reactionary. . .as always. . .” 

Keith replies by wrapping his arms around Kuro’s shoulders, leading one hand to the neckline of his shirt, the other into his hair. He gives both a sharp tug.

“Your shirt. . .I want it off.”

The response is immediate - nails scraping down over skin until Kuro has one palm pressed against his cock and the other wrapped around his throat. Both simply sit there at first, touches light, almost contemplative, thumbs rolling over flesh and clothing alike. With another breath comes a ripple of movement from his fingers, first lower, then upper. Both have Keith’s breath shivering in his chest. 

Kuro takes a step forward, close then closer still, until Keith can feel his erection digging into his thigh. His lips part again, but he denies the moan that wants to make itself known. Instead, he offers a smirk and grinds his thigh into hardened flesh until Kuro’s eyes are flashing with a molten mix of desire and resistance. A tight line to walk, but one they tread carefully in these moments. 

It's the very edge Shiro denied. The abyss Kuro always pulled Keith right down into with only a smirk and promises of fulfillment. 

The hand over his cock rolls down along its length, stroking him to full hardness. Keith bites on his lower lip and tips his head back though he keeps his gaze locked without remorse on Kuro’s. 

“Fuck you. . .” he grinds out again, this time unable to keep the moan from staining his words. 

Kuro smiles, a taut little thing that has the quintessence in his eyes jumping like the flashes of light from a sparkler set on fire. The fingers around Keith’s throat tighten, just enough to get his heart pumping again, as he leans in with a slow, tightly wound precision. Every inch forward has Kuro’s cock rubbing hard against his thigh. 

The kiss, when it arrives, is as controlled as Kuro’s descent. It’s measured, complete with a study of Keith’s mouth before Kuro’s lips eclipse it in full. An even pressure at first, one that gradually increases until Keith has to part his lips, allowing for Kuro’s tongue to slip between. Not once does he close his eyes, defiant to the last breath, which Kuro swallows down too. 

When he pulls back, the few millimeters needed to give Keith the room to breathe again, he’s smiling once more. “I can’t wait to. . .”

“Who says I want you to?”

The curve of Kuro’s mouth angles itself slightly, a touch of bemusement settling in. He wraps his fingers around Keith’s cock, cloth and all. “This does.”

A groan presses heavy against the back of Keith’s teeth at that. Lips split open and once more Keith tastes tongue and spit, the simmering warmth of Kuro’s need as he's kissed yet again. 

It’s all the reply needed. Fingers start working at Keith’s belt, and once its hold over his waist is relinquished, his pants are unzipped, button popped free. Keith moans into Kuro’s mouth as fabric is peeled away from his skin and a hand coils around his cock once more. Flesh to heated flesh.

“Do you know how beautiful you sound when you want me?” Kuro purrs against the corner of his mouth.

Keith pulls enough of himself together to snap teeth in the wake of those words. 

“Do you know how close I am to putting you on the floor and fucking you into silence?”

Laughter again, too chilled for Keith’s liking, so he wrings his hands around Kuro’s shirt and tugs with all the force a demand can muster. 

“Off.”

The laughter fades into a low growl, bubbling with a threat. Kuro releases Keith’s cock and steps back. He rolls his hands beneath the hem of his shirt and pulls it off with no second thoughts, casting it aside like the shell it ultimately is. And for a moment, Keith thinks he might regret his words, looking at what he’s unleashed before him, but Kuro is. . .

No time to think because hands are descending on him again, rough as they shove down his pants until he’s exposed below the knees. Even rougher still is the push against the wall, the way hands have gripped his hips and spun him so quick Keith barely has time to press his palms against the flat surface to steady himself. Kuro’s mouth finds the back of his neck, teeth grazing against his nape and biting down. 

A low moan breaks open his lips at that, back arching shamelessly. Keith isn’t sure if he wants to dip away from it all or invite Kuro closer to him with that move, both being decidedly delectable options. To regain what control he can, or to hand it over like he has so many times before - it’s certainly something to think about. 

Though leading Voltron is a much different matter than those that play out in the bedroom, and where Keith knows he would have put forth his thoughts in the control room, right now, he simply glances over his shoulder, challenging. Kuro growls deeply as their eyes meet. Seconds later a loud smack is ringing out across the room. Keith feels the sting ripple out over his ass, his left cheek burning. Retaliation comes in the way he spreads his legs, curves his back again, and narrows his eyes over his shoulders once more.

Instead of another slap, Kuro runs his hand up the inside of Keith’s right thigh, light and teasing, then moves up cup his balls. The breath stings at his lungs, too long held and begging for release. As a shadow crawls over him, Keith exhales shakily, feeling Kuro’s weight sink against his back. 

“Keep your hands on the wall. . .” Kuro murmurs, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. His voice is husky, laced with dark desires and all the promises they tend to hold. Kuro’s hand shifts to wrap around the base of Keith’s cock, and as he measures out one slow pump along its length, he’s whispering again, and this time, there’s something a bit more wicked spiking his words. “I’ll be fucking you into it in the next few minutes.”

Keith has half a mind to walk away the moment Kuro leaves him to rummage in the desk drawer. The rest of his mind reminds him that he’s harder than a diamond drill bit, that his frustrations are about as easily resolved as putting a round peg into an equally round and waiting hole. 

“If you’re not up for it in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be the one fucking you into the floor.”

He rocks his hips forward, fingers curling in against the wall, and shuts his eyes as though that alone could drown out the roar of his body’s own wanton screams. Thirty minutes before Shiro had been enduring another scathing interrogation from their allies, fending each one off with straight-backed responses and a fire in his eyes that had Keith’s core boiling from more than just anger. Fifteen minutes later, he had a hand settled on his lower back as they made their way from the conference room to what was decidedly not the training room. Nor was it the kitchen. Or the showers. 

Keith had led Shiro right to his bedroom, feeling the shift in Shiro’s demeanor in the same way life on earth detected the onslaught of a summer storm - as a quiet, heavy atmospheric change that put a sudden stillness into every birdsong, every cricket chirp. It’s electrifying, sparking the air with tension as the shadows swallow the world. Every time it happens, Keith’s nerves feel like they’re unwound, fraying into individual components that let him feel everything that Shiro is all the more intensely. 

Just like this moment, where intent thrums through his veins and makes his cock feel like a loaded spring. Coiling and coiling, tighter and tighter still until all he thinks is to beg for its release. He wants to reach down and jerk himself off to that conclusion, but a drawer slams shut behind him and a shiver cuts ruthless down his spine in its wake.

“So, you can still obey orders. . . “ 

Keith has a retort for that, but it’s stolen from his lips as Kuro smacks his ass once more. The moan that tumbles out in its wake has his cheeks flaring blood-orange red. It’s one thing when pleasure pulls it mindfully from your tongue; it’s another when it spills out reckless and unbidden but more honest than most things that fly from people’s mouths. 

“When they make sense,” Keith finally grinds out, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Or suit me.”

Kuro huffs out quietly at that. The smirk that curves his lips next has Keith shivering for an entirely different reason. Purposeful, promising. It’s a look that says no prisoners will be taken today, only casualties. Be it on one's knees or coming against a bedroom wall with one man’s name on your lips when you mean another’s. 

Or both, perhaps.

When Kuro’s hand finds his ass again, his fingers are slick and sliding in between his cheeks to tease at his hole. Keith grits his teeth at that, refusing to let another sound drop from his lips like honey from a shattered hive. 

The first finger presses in with no more than a breath from Kuro and a soothing caress of palm over the curve of Keith's ass. 

It takes more than a held breath and fists curling against the wall to keep himself from riding the press of that finger to its knuckle and growling at Kuro to give him more. But Keith knows the intent was felt nonetheless because Kuro is leaning down, kissing the small of his back and working his way lower. 

Teeth graze over skin, scraping along the firm flesh of his right cheek. “I’ve always loved the way you bend. . .” 

Something flares bright in Keith’s chest at that, burning through the dark haze of want. 

“Better than the breaking, isn’t it?” he breathes out around a moan. Because that would be the moment Kuro slips in another finger, always cutting him to the chase. Never cutting out his tongue though. Keith reasons it’s because of the pleasure it gives in turn, whether in searing words or by soothing pinpricks of blue and black as they blossom over skin.

Kuro’s lips find the back of his thigh, a low hum released against it as he continues to finger him open. 

“We all break in different ways. . .” he muses quietly, and Keith doesn’t miss the taunt buried in those words. “You tend to do so with the prettiest bits of moans. . .” 

At that, Keith rolls his hips forward, threatening to dislodge lips and fingers alike. Only he can’t. Not even half an inch is taken before Keith finds himself rocked to a solid halt as Kuro’s other hand clamps down over his hip and jerks him back. Keith releases a soft gasp of surprise, turning his head around sharply to snarl at the man behind it all.

“Either fuck me and see if you can bring me to that or get the fuck off me entirely.”

Ah, there’s a statement or two out there about famous last words, isn’t there? 

A part of him idly comments on that fact as Keith watches Kuro still behind him, fingers sliding out of his hole with an almost clinical precision. Clean in, clean out. Then comes the sharp splitting of metal teeth as a zipper finds itself parting like the Red Sea, and Keith wants to swear there’s a God in all of this somewhere as Kuro’s cock springs forth, hard and heavy. 

Maybe not God, but at the very least, the fallen divine, ready to devour and satisfy, to sink his soul and have his heart crying out for the love of it all.

A whine struggles to escape his throat. Keith swallows it down ruthlessly, gritting his teeth as Kuro steps in behind him, rolling the tip of his cock against his ass. 

Waiting.

Keith sets his forehead against the wall, shuts his eyes, and exhales a single shaky breath. Desire riots in his core, that torturous throbbing ache that spirals right down the length of his own arousal and hammers his reason down to flattened plates, littering the bottom of his mind. He snarls in frustration as Kuro reaches around and rubs at the head of his cock. Thumb and index finger then encircle its tip, and seconds later, Kuro is slowly rolling his fingers down to its base.

“Fuck me, or get out of the goddamned room so I can take care of myself,” Keith grits out, hating himself for relenting.

Something sings hallelujah in the back of his mind at that, however. Kuro chuckles as he releases his cock and plants a hand on Keith’s ass instead, parting his cheeks. Another moment, another held breath. He hears the pop of plastic, then seconds later, feels something hot and slick press against his hole. His heart jerks to a halt as his core clenches at the intrusion. The stretch has him whining seconds later, only he has no one to blame but himself.

He usually takes three fingers before Shiro even thinks about potentially fucking him. 

“Shiro. . .” 

It’s almost a plea. 

“Not my name. . .”

Keith holds his breath for a moment, feeling as Kuro drives himself deeper. Slow and measured, so painfully calculated. 

Inch by solid inch, he would break it all down.

The exhale comes hard. His words rush out, almost heady, and Keith can’t help but toss a glance behind him. “You’re the same man. . .”

A grin pulls Kuro’s mouth wide at that, and as if to lay praise on him for the declaration, he jerks his hips upwards and leaves the rest of Keith’s words dissolving in the hard moan he delivers next.

“I love you, baby.”

Keith thought he had survived every promise of breaking until he heard those words. But there’s the sound of splintering in his head, a crack running across the surface of his mind, and something in him shudders hard. 

His arms collapse against the wall, forearms bearing the load of his weight as Kuro thrusts into him. There’s never any pattern to it, one minute smooth and streamlined, every thrust carefully weighed against the next, then seconds later, it’s rough and reckless, rocking profanities and moans right off his tongue in the same way an earthquake sends vases shattering against the floor. Keith never knows what will come next in those moments. He only knows that he’s lost to whatever Kuro would ask of him.

He’s just coming off pace, settling back into something that’s built more on love-making than gratuitous fucking, when Keith feels a hand sliding up his spine, fingertips scaling vertebrae like a snake gliding over desert dunes. Fingers ease into his hairline, splaying out over the base of his neck, sinking deeper into the dark strands. A breath hitches in his throat as Kuro jerks his hips again, bottoming himself out with the sharp strike of skin smacking skin. A low growl infuses the air around them next. Possessive and dark, heavy as thunder sitting in the clouds. Keith feels the anticipation of it, that next release set to boom across the atmosphere. 

Everything stills.

The ache grows furious in his groin. His balls fucking _throb_. 

He wants his end. Wants Kuro to move and finish him off. He wants that sweet fall into the smallest of deaths.

Fingers close in over the back of his neck, slowly pulling his hair into the grip of Kuro’s fist. Kuro slides his hips back, leaving Keith with the sudden feeling of emptiness as only the tip of his cock remains buried within him. He pulses there, in and out, short little staccato movements that have Keith whining in quiet, desperate breaths. 

Then, the world breaks open, thunder crashing in his ears, as the grip on his hair tightens, drawing his head up and back, and Kuro slams his hips forward. Keith feels his heart jump-start as his knees threaten to give. The hand on his hip keeps him from faltering; the one still tangled in his hair has his back arching just to avoid the drop to the floor. 

Behind him, Kuro’s breath grows erratic. He huffs out in harsh, truncated pants that are bitten by the feral edge of a growl. Keith can imagine the flash of teeth, the part of Kuro’s lips, the intense gaze fixed on the curve of his back, the cock that’s driving itself remorseless into him. Kuro always enjoyed watching that part. It’s how they connect, he had said once, a whisper poured soft and low into Keith’s ear as he came.

And Keith can’t deny that.

This too is part of how they connect. All three of them, the one who is the other and also the same. 

Pressure builds within his core, spiraling tight at the base of his cock. Kuro releases the hold on his hair and drags his nails down his back. He smacks Keith’s left cheek, earning himself a small yelp, both pleased and surprised. Then that hand is curving around, looking to finish the job Keith already knows is coming to its end. 

Kuro pumps his length with a light grip, encouraging him to give in. Keith can feel it, that need coiling tighter still, as taut as a noose, and with one split second severing, release. A moan rolls over his tongue as he spills into Kuro’s hand, rocking himself back against each thrust to ride out his orgasm. No further thoughts, just white splashed across the blackout consuming his mind, and he thinks this must be what it means to ascend or transcend or _fuck_. . .it’s becoming one and seeing the ends of the universe and knowing you have some claim on all of that too. 

As the world filters back in from his brush with nirvana, he hears Kuro grunting as he comes as well. He can feel himself tightening still around Kuro’s length, every little spasm a call of encouragement to release. It’s a thought that has Keith laughing, quiet and breathless, as he sinks his forehead against his arm. After a moment, he hears laughter behind him as well, growing louder and warmer as lips settle against his ear and kiss him lightly in between breaths. 

“. . .good to have you back. . .” Keith murmurs, sated and grinning despite himself.

Another chuckle answers that. “It’s good to be back.”


End file.
